Child of Destiny
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: Zhao discovers the secret, underground library - he finds the scrolls about the moon and ocean spirits and sacrifices lives to attain glory.


Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**"Child Of Destiny"** by **Abraxas** 2009-03-20

The caption did not understand the significance of what those two discovered. Worse, still, he could not be bothered about it. Exhausted by the last sand-bender raid, the commander only wanted to escape that desert. Stopping to contemplate the ruins of a buried ancient treasure was not a part of the plan.

"When the walls fall and the armies invade," he roared, sending a ball of fire into the air to punctuate the words. "When Ba Sing Se's buried by the sands of time, bother me with your trifles."

The captain turned away from the discoverers and spied another sector of the horizon with a telescope. Gods, where was Shu? he asked within, his eyes betraying his desperation. It had been a week since they last heard anything out of the other companies.

The two soldiers who discovered the site looked at each other nervously while the captain resumed that fit of anger.

The men were cast by the shadow of the tower that spiraled out of the desert. It was strange that such ornate - and beautiful - architecture would be there, just there, alone in the middle of that ocean of sand. It meant something, they were certain of it, although what it was could not be determined without study.

The truth was it would not be studied - not by that army, perhaps, not by anybody. - Whatever it was its destiny seemed to be lost. If it were not destroyed by war, it would be forgotten as the battle progressed deeper and deeper into the continent.

Already that company spent a year snaking within those parts of the enemy's territories. As distant as could be from the front at Ba Sing Se. And, between the sun and the detestable, damned sand-benders, they were anxious to join the rest of army.

"Gods only know what General Shu's interest is," the captain resumed the tirade, "playing Paisho in each and every tavern while we do this work..."

"Captain, south, south east," Corporal Lee announced, pointing toward a smattering of dust rising, ghost like, across the landscape. "It bears the crest of the division."

"At damn last," said the captain - he crumpled the telescope and shoved it into his jacket.

A courier, adorned with the flag of the division, a white lotus framed by two owl's feathers - said to be chosen by its former commander, General Jeong Jeong - arrived at the encampment as if to answer the captain's wish.

Salutes - and a note passed into the hands of the captain. The commander studied the scroll. Something - something like a new breath of life - revived the man in front of the company. He glanced toward the men of the unit that Lieutenant Xiang gathered into a flank. He blinked at the sight of the tower the shook out of it.

"Looks like a little more cavalry work, men, we're fighting the sand-benders tomorrow."

"Action at last!" Lieutenant Xiang smiled as he tweaked his beard.

The soldier cheered glad to be as revived as the commander.

"We need to finish the encampment tonight," he continued with the men resuming their stoicism. "Yeah, first thing's first. Po and Han, help the Lieutenant with the tent. Chuan, Kuzon and you - get those distillers operational again - we need to refresh the canteens. And you two, my would be explorers, get away from that - from that whatever it is - and help. And, listen, all of you, I don't want anyone going into that tower."

And while the men tended their chores, the captain and the courier retreated into the shade to speak.

The soldiers erected tents nestled tightly within the solid, flat basin in front of the tower between craggy dunes of sand that formed the general terrain of the desert. The large, central tent was reserved for the captain and the lieutenants. The rest of the officers and draftsmen shared the other set of barracks. A fire was lit at the edge of the encampment by the watchtower. At the rear of the site the distillers were already producing a trickle of water - taken out of air, poured into canteens.

The captain gathered the unit into the main tent and debriefed. The attack General Shu devised seemed to be simple and effective. A typical three pronged offensive straight out of a textbook. Apparently, his skills at Paisho allowed his agents to gather more information about sand-benders and their methods than any Fire Nation prison yet extracted - with the courier still within their midst the captain was forced to be humble about that.

The sand-bender base was uncovered and their timeframe of attack was learned. Days. If not hours. They were congregated at the foot of a giant rock outcropping. A very distinctive feature. Magnetic - and infested by wasps.

Two companies were to assault the base. Each going around the outcropping along opposite directions. They, the third company, were tasked with riling up the wasps and providing general over watch.

With the plans set the men were eager by prospects of action. And revenge against the sand-benders. Their raids of Fire Nation convoys were costing General Iroh far too much trouble. Their attacks were costing lives, too, the graves of many of their fellows dotted the landscape. They were too much trouble to tolerate any further.

The company was allotted only thirty minutes downtime - then, with sunset complete, it would be lights out. Tomorrow it would be a walk two hours long to reach the location that needed to be scaled by dawn. Thankfully, the encampment did not need to be dismantled, yet given the time required to achieve their objective that left only four hours of sleep.

After the meeting concluded the first and second discoverers huddled by the fire.

The sun was sinking, its round, perfect shape distorted as if by mirage into a vision out of nightmare. Fragmented shades of green flashed around its edges. Curled, finger like tendrils appeared to burst off of its surface like eruptions of volcanoes.

The world everywhere in front of the two men was washed by seas of red - even the tower, with its ornate, ivory like detail, glowed with a tint of yellow bright enough to sting eyeballs.

"You know, it's not right to say it, but - a few parts of this land actually do look beautiful," the first man, a draftsman, said to the second man, the officer.

The other grunted in agreement while brushing his sideburns.

Suddenly the silence of the vigil was shattered by the appearance of a shadow sliding across their faces. They reached toward their weapons, unsure of what it could be, while the object crossed the face of the sun. A breath later they relaxed. It was a fox - a small, desert fox - a creature that seemed to be more interest with the spire than with the encampment.

The men watched that animal approach the base of the tower. It did not pause. Indeed, it sped. Instantly it scaled the length of the shaft along a tight spiral like path. Then it vanished into the yawning mouth of a window at its apex.

"Certainly, a land of mystery, isn't it?" the first said, flatly.

"What could be hidden beneath this desert?" the second replied, dryly.

"Does make my wonder - don't you wonder - about this world? How it came to be? Why it works the way it does?"

"That's a little heavy philosophy you got, my friend; you sound too much like my old master sometimes." He sighed and rested against the side of the watchtower. "Er, I do wonder though. Sometimes. Mostly about destiny. I don't believe things just happen."

"Aye," he raised a cup as if to toast, "a man makes his destiny."

The bearded soldier raised an eyebrow.

Was it possible? That man could have the power to change his history - his destiny! - and, by extension, the world? Or was it the height of man's arrogance?

When the last rays of sun vanished beneath the jagged rims of dunes, the second turned to the first:

"Did you see - it carried something inside of its jaws - it looked like a book."

An hour into the curfew the two explorers crawled out of their tent and met at the remains of the fire. The only other soldiers awake at that time of night were Kwon and Lee. Kwon was at the front of the encampment providing over watch. Lee was at the rear patrolling the perimeter. Without speaking, rather, signaling they coordinated a plan to evade the eyes of the guards.

The aim was to approach the far side of the tower. They had not surveyed the terrain at that face of the structure. They assumed it would be as rugged as the rest of the desert.

It was a new moon night so the environment was as pitch as it could be. The problem was that starlight was bright enough to cast a shadow. But, by waiting the hour, they reasoned fatigue would have set. The patrol should have been bored. Stuck watching while their thoughts drifted toward the promise of action at daybreak. Indeed, the anxiety seemed to be true about everyone except those two discoverers. Everyone was too busy thinking about tomorrow to worry about tending a base built in the middle of nowhere.

The soldiers noticed a pair of dunes separated by a wide lateral gap. When the patrolmen turned away, the two men took the opportunity to advance. They surged onto their feet and sprinted into that passage. They reached a curve and entered into that maze of hills beyond. At that point it would have been impossible to see their motion through that ocean of desert.

Nevertheless they kept quiet. It was somewhat easy to do since the earth was loose and their boots did not make too great a ruckus as they tread across it. However, it slowed their trek. And they had to be careful to avoid falling, crashing into each other, rattling their equipment, anything that could have issued a sound.

While they could not be seen, they might have been heard.

All throughout that endeavor the spire loomed above and guided their frantic zigzag path toward its far side.

Buried between the hills of the terrain, they crouched, reluctant to stand. They paused, looking for signs of activity - the fox or any other animal that could have built a den inside of it - yet again there was not a trace of life. It was as still as a crypt could be. They gazed at the apex. It was a six faced, four windowed minaret. Thinner at the top. Thicker at the bottom. There were no cracks along the shaft of the tower so the apex appeared to be the only way into its interior.

The shaved man stood and sprinted toward the tower. He produced a rope with a grapple and tied it onto the tail of an arrow. He held it against the string of a bow and aimed it toward the windows of the apex. It was a blur of void mixed with thin strips of facade between. The arrow was fired - it soared into the air slowly due to the weight it carried. The rope, that the bearded man uncoiled, snaked as it approached the peak of the spire. It entered and vanished within the onyx abyss of a window.

They feared what could have happened if the arrow continued its path through the tip of the tower onto their encampment - then, to their visible relief, it stopped inside of the apex.

The rope arrested its climb and relaxed.

The bearded discoverer rushed onto the base of the spire. He reached the rope and tugged it. The grapple took hold and it felt secure enough to climb.

The draftsman ascended. The officer watched. Within minutes he scaled the shaft and reached its tip. He vanished, too, and for several, breathless seconds he did not return to the window. Then, out of the abyss, he reappeared and implored the other to join with a signal.

"Careful," he said, helping the other into the chamber, "there's a hole in the middle of the floor. I almost missed it myself."

The apex of the tower was a chamber large enough only to house a bell. Still, from end to end, it contained the volume of the captain's main tent. Its ceiling was adorned by the exposed inner workings of the architecture that supported its roof. The walls were unadorned and weathered by age. There was a hatchway atop the floor directly ahead - they would have to walk along the perimeter of the chamber to reach it - perhaps the fox denned inside of its space wherever it led yet there not a sign of anything alive. And, otherwise, there was no other place to hide.

The floor itself, as their eyes grew accustomed to starlight, was wooden. Its planks were warped outward. As if bent by explosion.

The two men peered into the depth. The bearded officer sent a ball of fire into the abyss. The inner side of the tower was visible part by part as the light descended. There was a stairwell that spiraled down the length of the shaft. That structure started at the hatchway and seemed to unwind sturdily enough, perhaps, able to support their weight. But, as the light fell further and further, it was obvious that stairwell had been severely damaged along several key areas. It would have been impossible to use it to travel. And then, when the light died, its wake revealed the outlines of structures further into the earth.

"It verges into infinity," one said to the other. "One night, no, one lifetime, would it be enough to explore all of it?"

"What could be there waiting to be uncovered? You know, what I saw - what I thought I saw - it almost looked like a library."

Another pair of ropes was tied together. The first end was secured onto the rafters of the ceiling. The second end was dropped into the abyss. Now it was the bearded man who descended - the shaven man followed a minute later.

As they descended, at the middle of the shaft, there came suddenly and unexpectedly the first actual sign of activity within. It was a sound of flapping. That was followed by the feel of air stirring. It was not enough to sway the rope but it was detectable.

"Maybe there's another entrance," the bottom man said to the top man. Looking outward, into what he did not know, above the apex out of which they descended was a pinpoint of light, below the world was a wall of onyx as impenetrable as time. "We're feeling the current of air."

"Yeah, it could be, I thought it could be a bird. Though it's too big for a bird. Maybe it's one of those wasps." He talked to calm the nerves. His voice shook though. The absolute veil of pitch that cloaked the world seemed to allow his mind to fill with nightmare the details revealed by what his other senses detected.

"It couldn't be a wasp," the bearded man said toward the shaven man, "it would be buzzing instead."

Just to be safe he released another burst of fire out of his fingers. Across the distance, its light revealed a cavern divided by floors and populated by shelves. Displays. Cases. And very fleeting, just for a moment, an instant, there appeared to be a shadow gliding out of the light into the dark.

The other did not see it and he thanked the gods silently. His friend would have panicked with that state of mind revealed by that voice. His own heart skipped a beat at the shock of it.

A shapeless, formless shadow. Seeming to flex as it glided out of sight. A breeze then extinguished the ball of fire. Tiny little sparks of ember exploded and tumbled away. Slowing, slowing, it took forever to fade into oblivion and then, again, the world ended.

"Well," he said, trying to hide the fear within his voice, "looks like we're at the end of the rope."

The first onto the floor stepped away from the rope and produced a torch out of a sack. It was lit with a flick of the wrist. The second who jumped that short distance onto the ground stood beside the other and lit a lamp with fire of the torch.

Unveiled in front of the two explorers was a level - a level out of a thousand - unraveling from side to side continuously as ocean stretches from horizon to horizon. There were shelves everywhere. Scrolls. Books. Even paintings. The collection was itself a revelation. It crushed the mind.

They walked tentatively into the vastness of it, passing aisle after aisle of treasure.

Cases filled with relics beyond the reaches of history.

"In the name of all the gods at once - it must have taken eternity to amass all of this!"

The bearded man paused at cases that contained items whose technology surpassed anything the Fire Nation yet produced. It was so curious. A barrel of metal. One end open. One end butted by a handle also of metal decorated with wood. Above the handle, where the thumb and forefinger would have rested along the barrel, sat a cylinder with chambers.

"It looks like a weapon - and - it's not any kind of weapon..."

Beneath the stand that held the object were captions written with letterings strange enough to be alien. It seemed to be the alphabet of a language lost to antiquity. A scaled down, basic language. Its shape more geometric than organic. It lacked that brilliant and artistic grandeur of their calligraphy.

"This part of the continent is ancient. Everybody knows it. Covered with sand forever as far as anyone remembers. Aren't there stories the locals tell of an ancient world wide civilization whose capitol this desert used to be?"

"Lost cities. Lost empires. Lost knowledge. You're worse than Jeong Jeong with this talk," the bearded man said gruffly. "They do make good campfire stories. And that's where it ends."

"Look around - this isn't a lost ancient civilization? According to legend they were so powerful, with technology so advanced, they destroyed themselves. Now, even if you don't like legends, this place exists and you can't deny it. Whatever this is, this museum, it contains pieces of that civilization. And maybe it contains information about the present. Here," he said, pointing toward massive display case, "isn't that a replica of Ba Sing Se?"

The men gazed at the model. Carved out of sand, ten feet by ten feet, it was a scale model of the city.

"Imagine if General Iroh possessed this intelligence," the shaven man said aloud.

The other scratched his sideburns as the possibilities coalesced into a promise of reality.

They passed a figure of a lionturtle and the shelves that contained the records of the Air Nomads. A book, written by a Monk Gyatso, was atop a table and open into the start of a chapter. They thumbed through the volume and shut it.

"Useless," the first discoverer chuckled.

The second discoverer slid the book across the table into the void - the sound of it hitting the floor echoed throughout the vastness of the cavern.

The bearded man started to wonder about the library. A secret, hidden library. Buried in the middle of a desert. Its history spanning millennia. And yet not a trace of dust.

It contained a book written a hundred years ago. Written by an air-bender monk. Lying atop a table - where somebody had been reading its obscure chapter about the night of the storm.

They were not alone inside of that vault and he kept thinking about that shadow.

"We ought to be quick," he warned at last as the details were emerging into a picture - of what he did not fathom yet. "This place is too neat to have been abandoned ages."

"Wow," the other yelped, perhaps, unaware of what his friend said, "this is the history of the Fire Nation."

A lamp burned between stacks of book - the man who held it, excited by the revelation, seemed to be sprinting into obscurity.

"Wait, er, wait - don't get too far."

This was a situation he dreaded, actually, as soon as the occurred emerged that the library was still used he feared he would be forced to act.

He could be impulsive, true, the fact they climbed that tower was proof of it. But there was a clear thinking, levelheaded man at work too. He understood the value of intelligence. He was a military man, a soldier always devoted to the cause of the Fire Nation. Everything he did was filtered through the prism of what he felt was best for his country. Because, among other things, he knew it meant it would be best for his greatness. Yes, his greatness, a private little vanity he thought about from time to time. His greatness and how he intended to gain it, how he thoroughly deserved it.

But he was, again, getting ahead of himself.

He knew at that point that the library contained vast amounts of current knowledge. And if that mockup of Ba Sing Se was any kind of indication then its collection of Fire Nation facts would be equally impressive. That made it dangerous. Oh, so very, very dangerous. Letting it stand in Earth Kingdom where their enemies could have access to it - that could not continue. His duty impelled him to plan an act of sabotage such that nobody would be able to use the library against the Fire Nation.

But to do that meant to arouse the attention - and vengeance? - of the power that kept the library alive.

"It's 'The Last Testimony of Fire Lord Sozin,' the first man read aloud toward the second man. Flipping through the scroll he found a passage that heightened curiosity. "'I know he's out there, the last air-bender.' It's so melodramatic - I wonder who could have written it. And how did anybody get that information?"

"I don't know," the other said. He picked up another stack of paper. "'The Darkest Day of Fire Nation History.'" His hands trembled as his eyes read the words. "Seems to be about the Earth Kingdom armada headed by Chin the Conqueror. 'The eclipse of the sun blocked the fire-bender's power and let Chin claim the capitol of the Fire Nation,'" he read, his voice trailing.

The other stopped to think about it.

"I don't remember that part of history. Chin was expelled successfully. Well, maybe after the eclipse the benders got their fire back," he concluded. "It makes sense, if a comet makes us stronger, an eclipse - with the sun blotted - that ought to make us weaker."

Again the bearded man grunted agreement. Jeong Jeong alluded to the power of eclipses; all of the other firebending masters were too embarrassed to talk about it. And then a thought entered into his mind.

Suddenly the shaven man shrieked and the bearded man turned to see

A calm fell like a blanket of fog on top of the world. Movement seemed to be sluggish as if time itself slowed into a crawl. He feared the shadow, whatever it was, returned. Instead, when he reached his friend, he found a very different visage. It was a fox. The fox? He could not say with certainty. But it was alone and it was not threatening.

It held a book within its jaws then nuzzled it into a gap that appeared within the self of the case.

Then, as quietly as it appeared, it vanished.

"What was that?"

"I don't know."

The first man reached into the area where the book had been added. It was warm but not wet. He unfolded it and blinked - and showed it to the second man.

It was a copy of General Shu's orders.

"Someone's still around, still collecting. And I don't think it's human."

The thought continued. The shock did not extinguish it. The Fire Nation gained its power from the sun. The Water Tribes gained its power from the moon. If the moon could be blocked like the sun then that would be the advantage.

Without saying anything about it, he set off on a quest and let the other soldier alone to explore the library.

"There not a lot of time, you know, we'll cover a great area like this - just don't forget where to find the rope!"

Air Nomads. Ba Sing Se. Relics of civilizations beyond the reach of history. The volume of material sunk his spirit. Even if he found the area, the information could be lost amid the clutter. The library was terribly organized. It was not the systematic delineation of topic found within a Fire Nation library. Rather information was gathered organically as it trickled into the collection.

Against that chaos, however, there were trends that pointed to clues that guided his path. At last, the object of the game was close enough to be reachable. A crack along a wall revealed a passage - it lead into chamber fitted like a study. He found a desk littered with scroll after scroll. They were documents about the spirits worshiped by the Water Tribes. He knew, as if by instinct, that the secret about the moon would be found within that trove.

It was a question about how to take the moon out of the picture. Perhaps for a little while. Perhaps for eternity.

"Eternity," he said aloud, letting the syllables escape breath by breath.

If a man were able to shape his destiny, then, was he not powerful enough to change the course of history? It must be true. A man, even the figure of a peasant, is too intimately a part of the world. He affects it as he, too, is affected by it.

"What was it Jeong Jeong used to say?" he asked. "Damn it! I should have paid attention... If men were blinded to the powers that shaped their destiny, they felt helpless... No, that's not it."

At last, recalling bits and pieces of his old master's philosophy, he fathomed the chains that connected him to the rest of the world. And, now, he surmised the possibility of a design planned by the gods at which he stood at the center. The right man was not enough - it had to be the right man at the right place at the right time. It was no accident that they discovered the tower. No twist of fate that they defied the orders of the unworthy, petty commander. Those things were meant to be!

The Water Tribes were always a thorn on the side of the Fire Nation navy. Their North and South Pole cities were among the first places to be attacked after the elimination of the Air Nomads. It was important to neutralize those strongholds. Otherwise, with the Earth Kingdom between the poles, interference by the tribes would have threatened any kind of progress into the continent.

The South Pole proved to be the easiest to eliminate. They were always the smaller and loser band of peoples. Confined to the rim of the pole they were so easy to target. All of the water-benders had been killed and captured and the Southern Raiders kept a constant vigil against the emergence of any new threat.

Only the North Pole remained stubborn and defiant.

Oh, to be smiled upon by destiny! To be its favorite child. Its golden child. To be favored by the gods.

_Let General Iroh take Ba Sing Se - if that's his destiny_, he thought. _I and I alone am fated to bring the Water Tribes to its knees_!

"I am the child of destiny!" he exclaimed while reading a parchment and making the discovery. "Fools!"

It was impossible to believe it. No, he read it again and again just to be sure his eyes did not deceive. As far back as could be remembered man looked toward the spirits for wisdom. And then that scroll - that scroll - it revealed aspects of spirits that would have been blasphemy if spoken to the religious.

"All of the wisdom of the world comes to this? Stupid! Inept!"

To think those were the spirits out of which came the Water Tribes' power!

He knew then and there that anything was possible - if he desired it so.

He started wanting information about eclipses. He ended knowing the secret to destroy the Water Tribes forever. Destroy them! Their religion. Their beliefs. Their reason to exist. He saw it already, as vivid as sunset, masses of people falling into ocean, letting the waves consume their bodies, too ashamed to continue.

This was his destiny. He would be remembered like Sozin. He could be delivering the Fire Nation the final jewel of its empire. And by destroying changing the world itself. The destruction of a city, hell, the conquering of a kingdom - there was nothing new or glorious about that. It paled compared to the eradication of the moon.

Azulon would be forced to claim as heir the man chosen by destiny!

Another shriek cracked the stillness of the night.

"A fox, again?" he wondered.

He folded the scroll into his jacket and grabbed the torch. It was already dying. He fed it a few random pages and crawled out of the study.

He looked around when the shriek returned. It was accompanied by the flash of lamp jumping between shelves. He squinted - the sight of the lamp resembled the surreal flavor of a dream - yet it was real. That was his fellow soldier chased by the shadow.

He readied then paused overwhelmed by the shock of it - the shadow, it had a shape, a form at last!

"Run toward the rope," he shouted as he lunged headlong into the darkness. He ran stopping from time to time to blast shots of fire into the shadow behind. "Follow me, damn it," he cried. "Can't you see me?"

"Yes - I'm - I'm behind you!" the other man replied.

The sound of a struggle was coming yet closer and closer.

Yes, indeed, the torch revealed the shadow was tracking their motion, deciding which of the two explorers to attack.

"Don't look back, just follow the sound of my voice," he ordered as he continued to run. "We'll get out of this, I swear it, just don't look back!"

"By the gods, what is that?" the first man asked the second man as they crossed paths and reunited.

The shadow was flying above, swooping and circling overhead as they tried to recollect the way toward the rope.

Soon the displays seemed to be familiar but the chaotic order into which they had been installed hindered their progress with false turns and dead ends.

It was the section about the Fire Nation's history that set their course straight again - he stopped and was knocked aside by a fox.

"Keep going - I'll be right there - I'll be right behind!" he shouted as the torch flew out of his hands and landed deep into that aisle. On the floor, against his back, he watched his friend rush past and felt the sweeping hot air of the shadow as it followed.

Enveloped by the void he uttered a shriek as remnants of forgotten childhood fear - of the depth, of the abyss - reared suddenly and unexpected. He arose and was, again, knocked aside by a fox. It was not accident - and, enraged, he issued a burst of fire through his teeth. It sprayed against the volumes crowded within the shelves.

And as the library glowed, he heard his friend scream about a bird

He turned and caught a glimpse of the other soldier as he was running across the other end of the aisle. Then the shape of the shadow came into focus. Then, again, as it passed it melted back into the veil of onyx.

"Damn it, you're running the wrong way! You're running the wrong way!"

Filled with panic he arose and sprayed the other side of the aisle with fire. Within a matter of seconds the whole, entire history of the Fire Nation was, itself, ablaze. Now the level was lit and it helped his friend find his way toward safety.

"Drop the lamp, you don't need it," he commanded.

The shaven man tossed the lamp backward - it hit the Ba Sing Se display, shattering its case of glass. The mockup tumbled onto the floor. The details obliterated into a pile of dirt.

The bird uttered a sound that froze their blood. And the face of it came into view at last. It was the owl; the shadow had been the profile of its wingspan, wide enough to bridge the gulf between the levels of the library.

He stood while his friend fled onward - he did not move until the face was again within reach. When he saw its eyes, its beak widening, opening, he aimed and fired a shot into its face. The creature shrieked that sound, again, as it tumbled backward. Flopping. Flapping.

He ran toward the rear of the library where the image of the rope was visible as it swayed within the currents of heat coming out of the fire.

"Just a few yards," he said, grasping his friends shoulder to direct his wayward direction. "It's that way, see it!"

Another fox reared, another blast sent it running away.

That thing's back!" the other discovered struggled to say.

The rope - the bearded man reached it, the shaven man followed as close as could be. The light of the fire burning the books was dimming as the foxes were killing it. The world beneath the two men grew ever steadily darker and darker. The soldiers kept their eyes fixed onto the apex of the tower - its pinpoint of light was slowly but surely gaining a kind of strength.

The rope was swung violently. It collided against the wall. The top man twisted its length around his arm. The bottom man slipped a little. Then it stretched and jostled.

"It's got me, oh, gods, it's got me!" yelled the shaven man.

The sound of wings flapping and flesh tearing reached the bearded man. The agony of it stabbed into his ears. The scream! He could not forget the sound of the scream! Yet he did not stop. He could not stop to look back into that. Until the rope stretched too far and he feared the rafter it was tied onto was about to break - then and only then he turned

His friend's voice was not a voice any longer - if it existed it was a gurgle of blood - and he could not bear it.

He released a spray of fire and it streamed almost like water down the length of the rope toward the bird and the victim of its violence. The man and beast together were set ablaze and their shrieks melted into a single guttural cry. The rope itself burned and the two figures, still locked in a struggle of life and death, tumbled into the abyss.

"Zhao!"

He heard his name screamed as the vision faded out of sight into the onyx.

It was the last sound he remembered.

When he faced upward, he climbed furiously and someway, somehow reached the apex within seconds. He did not stop. He reached the other, original rope and started a descent. So overwhelmed by fear that he slipped the last fifty feet and landed against his side.

* * *

It was the smell of smoke that alarmed the officer.

Ailing, still, he struggled to rise onto his feet. The shifting sand and his injury combined into a gait that resembled the unsteady rhythm of a drunk. All the while he cursed, aloud, that his career was finished. Destiny, it appeared, fled. He was just another man. Disgraced! And there was no way to excuse what happened.

He failed. Failed to join his men as they attacked the enemy. Failed to save his friend when, perhaps, a better aimed blast could have taken away the monster. Failed to follow a direct order to keep away. He was AWOL by any standards - especially by the general's and the captain's standards - a renegade of the Fire Nation army. If he was fortunate, he would have been set ablaze instantly.

All of the treasure. All of the knowledge. And the promise of a future of glory - vanished as surely as if it had been dreamed. Indeed, it must have been a nightmare. Owls and foxes and the scream of his friend sacrificed by his arrogance.

If only it had been imagined - the warped dream of a man drunk with his own bloated sense of self. Alas, the pages folded into his jacket meant it was so very real.

The smell of fire and site of smoke - what could it be?

He rushed as fast as weakened, broken legs allowed. At length, beyond the peak of a slope, he was face to face with the encampment ready to be punished. When he saw what was left of it he struggled not to utter a laugh.

Again he cursed himself - for cursing fate too callously. He knew then and there it could not be denied. He was destiny's favorite son. It had to be. It just had to be! There was no other way to explain was daybreak revealed.

He was not late. He was not missing. He was not AWOL. There had been to fight at the outcropping. Because the encampment itself had been destroyed.

Crawling amid the ruins of the tents. The corpses of his comrades. The litter of the Fire Nation army scattered by the raiders. It was a monument of fate that took his breath away.

When General Shu arrived to see what kept his third company out of the attack he found only a single survivor of a sand-bender attack, injured yet fighting.

A path into greatness was assured - for his bravery against the raid that destroyed the company in the middle of the night, for his injuries suffered within that battle, he was promoted into the rank of Captain.

And, as the general said turning toward his newly minted captain, "I foresee this is but the start of a storied list of promotions..."

**END**


End file.
